


We're Soaring, Flying

by here_comes_the_moose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring!John, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Motion Sickness, Sick!Sherlock, Sickfic, lotsoffluff, sherlock is a baby when he's sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8523598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/here_comes_the_moose/pseuds/here_comes_the_moose
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple little helicopter ride. Unfortunately, nothing is simple where Sherlock Holmes is involved.





	

"Sherlock, love, are you sure you're alright?" 

Sherlock turns his head to see a very concerned John Watson staring at him. No, he's not alright. They had a case and the only way to get to the crime scene was via helicopter, which Mycroft had insisted on supplying since he and Lestrade were dating, and he was miserable. He hadn't exactly felt one-hundred percent when he had woken up this morning, but he ate breakfast because John insisted. Now, however, with the fumes and constant jolting and rocking of the small aircraft, as well as the dizzying views of the English countryside, Sherlock felt infinitely worse, with what had just started off as a small headache developing into a borderline migraine with vertigo and nausea to go with it.

"You look awfully pale," John says, pressing a palm to his forehead. "You feel very clammy. Do you get airsick, love? Do you need a sick bag?"

Sherlock is about to reply when the helicopter suddenly aggressively lurches to the side and he grips his spinning head before placing the back of his hand to his mouth. _He will not get sick._ He thinks to himself. _Bloody transport is all it is. He will not puke inside this helicopter._

However, he's beginning to doubt his reasoning as he feels his stomach churn and his throat tighten. He clenches his eyes shut as a new wave of vertigo overtakes him and pinches the bridge of his nose, between his eyes.

"Love?"

Sherlock opens his eyes when he feels John rubbing his upper back. He hadn't even realized he had leaned over. He just felt so _sick_ and he wished he could just get off this flying deathtrap but he has to return back in it and the thought alone makes him want to...

Sherlock coughs and lurches forward, clamping a hand over his mouth and breathing deeply through his nose, which doesn't do much, due to the fumes in the aircraft.

"Aw, c'mere," John says, pulling Sherlock's head into his lap and beginning to massage his temples and play with his hair. Sherlock looked _awful_ with dark rings around his eyes and his complexion extremely pale, bordering on green. John could see how Sherlock swallowed every so often, undoubtedly desperately trying to not be sick.

"You need to throw up?" John asks. Sherlock groans. "It's okay if you do. It's perfectly normal to get sick, Sherlock. It's just your body's way of telling you it doesn't like the movement of the helicopter is all."

"It's embarrassing," Sherlock whines. "And dull."

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, love," John soothes. "Some people just can't handle the abrupt movements and height, nothing to be ashamed of."

" _Ugghhhhhh_..." is the response John gets as Sherlock abruptly sits up to grab one of the bags in front of them and becoming horribly sick. John immediately begins to rub Sherlock's back and push his curls out of his face as he empties his breakfast into the paper bag.

"Shhh, it'll be alright love," John coos. "Just let it all out; you'll feel better."

" _Euhhhhhhh_...." is the only response John receives from his boyfriend as he hurls up his insides into the sick bag.

"Everything alright back there?" the pilot asks.

"Sherlock's got a touch of airsickness, but we've got it under control," John replies.

" _Jawwwwwnnn_ ," Sherlock whines once he's finished throwing up. If John didn't know any better, he'd say that the detective looked close to tears.

"C'mere," John says softly, pulling Sherlock close to him. Sherlock curls into John's side and lays his dizzy head on John's shoulder. Sherlock looks at John's jumper and thinks to himself, _This is one of John's favorite jumpers. I will not be sick on his jumper. I will not soil this jumper._

John begins to rub Sherlock's tummy and hum him a little song, like his mum used to when he was sick. The poor thing obviously felt miserable and John wished he could take it all away, but he knew Sherlock would not feel better until they were on solid ground. 

"You feeling better, love?" John asks in a concerned voice as he notices how Sherlock's breathing has picked up and how he looks even worse than before.

"I'm- _Ack!_ " Sherlock feels his mouth go from dry to extremely wet again and he can feel the sick coming back for another round. 

John immediately places another bag in Sherlock's hands just in time for him to throw up again, and John resumes rubbing Sherlock's back and pushes his damp curls out of his face. Sherlock coughs and sniffs before closing the bag and putting it away. John feels his heart break when he sees how Sherlock looks; pale, red-eyed with dark circles, involuntary tears dried on his cheeks.

John hands Sherlock a tissue, which he then uses to wipe his mouth and blow his nose before lying back down in John's lap. John plays with his boyfriend's hair, massaging his dizzy, aching head, massages his tummy, and hums to him. 

"We'll be descending now," the pilot says. Sure enough, they feel the helicopter begin to descend with a little drop that makes Sherlock's stomach flip. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on his breathing, so as not to be affected by the lurching and dropping of the helicopter and not throw up again.

"Love, we've just landed," John says, nudging Sherlock to open his eyes. Sherlock opens his eyes and begins to sit up. 

"Slowly, love," John says, helping him up, so as not to cause more dizziness or nausea. "You feeling any better now that we're not in the air?" 

"Still dizzy and nauseous," Sherlock replies softly, his throat starting to hurt a bit. Sherlock still actually felt very much nauseated, but he didn't want to worry his boyfriend and it would probably pass in a bit once he got some fresh air.

The pilot then opens the door and helps John and Sherlock out. They walk a few steps and are greeted by Lestrade and Mycroft. 

"Dear brother," Mycroft greets. "John. Sherlock, you're looking unwell, why did you not stay home?"

"I'm alright," Sherlock replies, even though in reality he feels seconds away from puking all over the place.

"Mycroft's right, you look absolutely dreadful," Lestrade adds. "I heard that there's a vi-"

And Lestrade is interrupted by Sherlock lurching forward and throwing up all over the ground. Mycroft and Lestrade look on in concern, while John rubs his back and soothes him. Once Sherlock is done, he must admit that he does feel a lot better; he only has a headache now and just a slight queasiness, but he doesn't think he'll throw up again.

"Sorry about that," Sherlock says, after he blows his nose and wipes his eyes and mouth with the tissues John hands him. "Must have been something I ate."

"Bullshit," John sneezes.


End file.
